


Pleasure in Defeat

by red_smear



Series: Shitty Boy Corner [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Bastard on Top, Begging, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Frottage, Gags, Light ThanZagMeg Bondage Setup On The Side, M/M, Meg Is An Actual Competent Domme, Multi, Than Has Some Concerns, Theseus Has No Home Ec Skills, light petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_smear/pseuds/red_smear
Summary: “I shall tame you!  Or at least make a great attempt to!”  Something changes subtly in the intensity of his gaze, the edge of his smile.   “At the very least, I’ll have you admit your own...more servile desire for me.”“You’ll tame me,” Zagreus repeats flatly, pretending the word didn’t tug beguilingly at his imagination.  “Like a wild animal.”“You take my meaning!”  Theseus’ grin widens.  “And rest assured, it is not all you shall take, in days or nights to come!"
Relationships: Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Shitty Boy Corner [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010508
Comments: 31
Kudos: 270





	Pleasure in Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> Alt Title: Fruits of Your Labor  
> This one has been a thorn in my side for a good long while now. My brain likes emotional conflict and escalating plot, so I tried to squeeze some in at first, but after a while I realized that actually, all I want out of this series is shameless smut and the only thing that needs to escalate is the kinkiness.

“Zag. _Zag_.”

The world comes back into focus--first and foremost, a stern blue face, pink lips set in a hard frown. “Er, what?” says Zagreus, crown prince of the underworld, first of his name, currently stark naked and half-tied to his bed. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, I’m not repeating myself,” says Megaera the Fury, in a voice that could scratch diamonds. “Think back. What did I say?”

Zagreus screws up his face. The shape of the words is there, floating just out of reach in the hazy depths of his memory. He can just grasp the tone of it…

“You...asked me if it’s too tight,” he says, and it’s half a question, but from her scowl he guessed right. She goes back to her knotwork at the bed’s foot. At last, Zagreus relaxes, lifting his head ever so slightly to watch her. Rarely does he have the chance--certainly not during their battles, when her terrifying beauty is more of an afterthought. Now, in this anticipatory lull, there’s time to marvel at the handsome breadth of her shoulders, the bunch and flex of muscles in her back.

“At least talk while you stare,” she says, without turning around. “What’s the matter, Zag.”

Zagreus colors, feeling utterly seen-through. Perhaps it’s just a skill she acquired from eons of her dire work in Tartarus, or perhaps he’s just that easy to read, even with her back to him. At this point, he’s starting to suspect the latter.

“...Nothing, really.”

“Zagreus.”

“I’m just…”

“Just what?”

Zagreus chews his lower lip, squinting at the ceiling again. Doesn’t she deserve to know? Would she _want_ to know? Maybe she would just be disgusted--and not in that playful, knowing way that he was so hoping to hear today...

Meg seems to get tired of waiting and turns back around, inspecting his face with those wickedly sharp eyes. “Zagreus. I’m not doing this if you’re distracted. Get it off your chest before we start, or we won’t start at all. You don’t want to lose this chance, do you?”

Oh, gods--these occasions are so rare and wonderful, not to mention difficult to coordinate-- “No!” he says hurriedly. “Of course not!”

“Then tell us what’s going on,” says Than from his vantage point in the shadows. Up until now, he’s seemed content just to watch Meg work (and Zagreus worked on) while he carefully strips down to his short clothes. Without his robes and regalia he looks different--vulnerable. Though not as vulnerable as Zagreus feels, at the moment.

 _It’s stupid_ , Zagreus thinks, and means it, but he can’t say that with both of them watching him like this. He sighs. “...Er. Alright. You know the champion of Elysium?”

“I’m familiar,” says Than.

“You’ve summoned both of us to help you defeat him, Zag,” says Meg, whose lip curled at the title. “And of course I know him. He’s your problem?”

Zagreus pauses, choosing his words with extreme care. “I keep...running into him. He’ll just show up and...annoy me from time to time.” It’s not a lie. A woeful understatement, perhaps, but not a lie. “Just...around the arena. Well--once he was in the room where I usually fight the Bull of Minos...”

“Zagreus,” says Meg, flatly, “if you tell me _King Theseus_ is getting to you, I might just lose all respect for you.”

Than’s eyes narrow. “I can...have a word with him.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Zagreus blurts, and then prays they didn’t hear the panic in his voice. They share a look. _Blast._ “He’s not... _getting to me,_ it’s just--been a while since he tried anything. Recently he’s been...very normal. Or, normal for him.”

Meg snorts. 

“...Do you _want_ him to ‘try something’?” says Than, confused and utterly serious.

“No!” _Obviously,_ no. Obviously. “It just feels like he’s _planning_ something, that’s all. I’m just...waiting for the other sandal to drop.”

“So he _is_ getting to you,” says Meg. Zagreus glares at the rafters, painfully aware that his silence is its own answer. Her soft, gravelly chuckle makes him feel even more the fool, though perhaps deservedly. Theseus may be formidable in the arena, but he’s hardly a devious tactician. Even Achilles would smile at it, probably--Theseus, _planning something? I wouldn’t worry about it, lad. Keep your mind in the present._

...And _yet_.

“I don’t see how this is any laughing matter,” says Than. “Even ‘champions’ can’t just go wherever they please. If he wants to challenge you alongside the Longspears and Brightswords, he’ll have to go through Erebus first and get the proper clearance--”

“Than, we only have so much time here,” says Meg, not unkindly. “Do you really want to spend it talking about _clearance?_ Zag’s waiting for you.”

“Ah--right.” A kind of guarded appreciation crosses Than’s features as he seems to realize the situation anew. His eyes travel the length of Zagreus’ bare, splayed body, then land questioningly on his face.

“I’m right here,” says Zagreus, trying his best to pack love and reassurance into the words. Than’s expression crinkles, as it sometimes does, in equal parts affection and disapproval-on-principle. It’s unintentionally adorable.

“...So you are.”

“Good,” says Meg. “Alright, Zag. Snap _no_ for me.”

Obediently, he clicks his fingers once.

“Snap _yes_.”

_Click click._

“Snap _slow_.”

_Click click click._

“Good.” She cinches the last of the knots around Zagreus’ right ankle, deft and assured, and finishes with a perfunctory smack to his inner thigh. The quick sting of it sets him alight, heightens every other sensation--foremost among them, the unrelenting grip of soft rope on his wrists and ankles. Zagreus stretches with a tight, throaty hum, luxuriating in his own helplessness. From the corner of one eye, he sees Than raise a hand to his mouth, brow furrowing as though in deep thought. Meg runs her tongue over sharp white teeth, eating him with her eyes.

“Now, _Zagreus._ If that isn’t too tight...we can get started on you.”

That deep, indulgent purr makes him melt every time, and she does it on purpose. “It’s perfect, Meg,” he says breathlessly, and then Than is kissing him, and all is right with the world. He has this, he has them--what more could he want? Comparatively, the champion of Elysium is nothing but a bad habit.

Why worry about Theseus?

\--

He shouldn’t have thought it. The fates are almost certainly laughing at him somewhere, Zagreus imagines sourly. Is this some terrible, dread minor prophecy? _Lie with King Theseus ten times and thou shalt surely receive FIFTEEN DIAMONDS for thy pains._

Fifteen diamonds would not be enough.

“Hello, filth,” says Theseus, dramatically. He’s perched on the fountain, one leg propped on its edge, and his tunic has fallen back to expose a muscular, gleaming thigh. He is also, most outrageously of all, holding the room’s prize.

“It’s Zagreus,” says Zagreus. “And that pomegranate is mine, thank you very much.” And then, because he just can’t help himself, “How long have you been waiting here? Were you sitting like that the whole time? Have you just been waiting around to catch me at a fountain since the last time we--”

Theseus cuts him off with the air of a man who has been rehearsing a speech and is determined to get through it. “Unfortunately, daemon, it would seem that I…” He grimaces, takes a heroically deep breath, and finishes with great, mournful reluctance--“...desire you.”

“That’s--” Zagreus frowns. “...Actually...honest, for once. I never thought I’d say this, but I appreciate--”

“But how to reconcile such shameful emotions with our great enmity?!” Theseus barrels on, predictably. “I could not countenance it at first! Even good Asterius could not manage to comfort me as I toiled over the issue!”

With private cynicism, Zagreus imagines that Theseus probably did his “toiling” loudly, within earshot of the bull, hoping to be “comforted” long and hard on the bed.

“Torn thus between such perverse feelings and the magnitude of my animosity, I eventually devised a clever compromise!” He pauses, obscenely pleased with himself, and glances across the chamber. Zagreus stares back. The silence stretches on, soft and sparkling and expectant.

Theseus coughs.

“...O King Theseus, pray tell me of this compromise,” says Zagreus, flatly. Theseus practically glows.

“I shall tame you! Or at least make a great attempt to!” Something changes subtly in the intensity of his gaze, the edge of his smile. “At the very least, I’ll have you admit your own...more servile desire for me.”

“You’ll _tame_ me,” Zagreus repeats flatly, pretending the word didn’t tug beguilingly at his imagination. “Like a wild animal.”

“You take my meaning!” Theseus’ grin widens. “And rest assured, it is not all you shall take, in days or nights to come! Until then, however, look: I have your precious fruit!”

He waves it tauntingly, as though it’s Zagreus’ most treasured possession and not a healthy snack. Zagreus is painfully aware that he’s being given an excuse, something to blame his actions on when he inevitably submits. He feels unspeakably condescended to. He wants to kneel and beg for it. _Damn it._

“Let me guess,” he says, folding his arms, “you’ll give it to me, but only if I’m _very very good?”_

“Hah! You are not capable of such a thing.” Theseus produces a knife from somewhere and starts to cut into the pomegranate with appalling abandon. Zagreus could be charitable and blame it on his time in the underworld; shades don’t eat, after all, and Theseus has been down here a while. But he refuses ever to be charitable, and assumes instead that the king has never had to cut his own fruit before.

“If you--just put it down--” he says, wincing at each clumsy hack. “It helps to use a flat surface--I can even do it for you--”

“No need for that, hellspawn!” Theseus breaks the fruit in two at last, spilling arils across the floor and into the fountain. The rind and remaining seeds are mangled, leaking scarlet juice down his arms. “Well? Come!”

Zagreus has heard that _“Well?”_ before, in that same tone of impatient expectation. _Damn him_. Damn this new obsession of his, and damn the way it goes straight to Zagreus’ cock. Every time Zagreus thinks he’s gotten used to it all, Theseus finds some new, horribly tantalizing way to demean him.

He takes a step forward, feeling almost dragged by a rope (and wouldn’t Theseus like that, and wouldn’t _he_ like that-- _stop thinking about it_ )--

“Hold, daemon! You would approach me so brazenly?”

Zagreus scowls, feeling his ears start to burn. “I'd very much appreciate it if you would _make up your mind._ ”

“Hah! _Impertinent!_ I could say the same to you--if you wish to earn your place at my feet, beast, you must show your willingness! Come to me on your hands and knees!”

\--

The daemon gives him a look of _such_ outrage and embarrassment, then, that Theseus feels almost dizzy with arousal. That _look_ \--blushing and reticent, hating to be commanded, and yet drawn by his obscene urges to obey...it’s almost beautiful. And when those macabre skull-faced greaves clang against the stone-flagged floor, the sound is so sweet as to be musical.

Theseus has imagined the daemon in such a position before--more frequently than he’d admit aloud--but never exactly like this. Never crawling like an animal, his hips swaying with every step, the pale curve of his back naked to the sky (such as there is a sky, here). Every so often he'll scoff or curse under his breath, his eyes dropping in embarrassment, but always they defiantly find Theseus’ face again. Yes--he wants to be seen, doesn’t he? To have his humiliation witnessed and appreciated… And there’s much to appreciate, so it’s fortunate that the daemon has quite a distance to crawl. But--perhaps some encouragement is in order.

Theseus sets one half of the pomegranate aside and carefully plucks a cluster of arils from the other. Cradling them in his palm, he lowers them invitingly to the daemon’s level.

“Here, now!” He whistles, as he did for his hunting hounds in life, and a twitch runs down the daemon’s spine. “Quicken your pace, monster! Your master grows impatient!”

“ _Master?”_ The daemon draws level at last, glaring up with his red eye. As though Theseus were only worth half his attention. “How many titles do you need?”

Theseus seizes a handful of dark, coarse hair and makes the daemon look at him. He exhales hot and feverish, gasps when Theseus’ grip tightens. “Do not squander my good will, ungrateful fiend!”

“Ngh... _king--”_

“Say _my king._ And for good measure, apologize!”

He looks so deliciously resentful for a moment that Theseus wonders if he’ll really do it, if he’ll say the words that have as yet been so absent from his vocabulary. Perhaps it’s too early--the daemon often begins the ordeal with great pride, and must needs be coaxed into respect and obeisance.

Then the daemon clears his throat, and--could it be? “I’m...sorry. My king.” He flushes deeper, squirms under Theseus’ waiting, hungry gaze. “For my...rudeness.”

Such well-deserved shame, such a _thrill--_ “There, I’ll teach you humility yet!” Theseus tugs at his hair again, forces the daemon’s mouth down to his cupped palm. “I am pleased with you, take your prize.”

He does so, without objection this time, and Theseus groans aloud at the feeling of soft lips delicately taking food from his hand. Throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat, he lets his mind wander to the possibilities this new game presents. Perhaps more gifts are in order? Pretty costumes to look the part of a champion’s plaything, a collar of gold and a chain to match...

\--

“Ah... _good pet._ ”

The words send a twitch through Zagreus’ body, an impulse of combined arousal and shock that he has no chance of hiding. Theseus chuckles, delighted.

“Hah! Oh-- _daemon…_ ” He catches Zagreus’ tongue between his fingers, pulls gently. Zagreus opens his mouth, allowing himself to be played with, still reeling from the words. _Good pet._ “I knew you desired, in your evil, ungenerous heart, to be scorned and degraded… To think you wish also to be spoiled and praised! But then, the admiration of a king must be a dear prize, even to things such as yourself…!” Theseus releases him and raises a foot, toeing the hard ridge askew across the crease of Zagreus’ left thigh. "Aha...you cannot hide your arousal from me..."

“K-king--” Zagreus catches himself. “I mean-- _my king._ Sir--!”

Theseus redoubles his efforts, his breath stuttering. “I--I imagine you want nothing so much as to rub against my leg, hm?!”

He punctuates the question with another teasing stroke and Zagreus curls forward around the sensation, the last of his resistance dissolving. He does want to, he’d do it--hump him like a dog, his face pressed to Theseus’ thigh. _Fingers in his hair--good pet--open your mouth--_

Then the foot withdraws and another little shower of ruby-red seeds hits the ground before him. Zagreus raises his eyes at last to see Theseus holding a freshly-torn chunk of pomegranate. The king cocks an eyebrow at his parted lips.

“For what do you present yourself so readily, monster? For this gift? Or--for something else?” He pulls back his tunic, legs spread brazenly wide, leaving nothing to the imagination. At last--Zagreus is _good_ at this. He shuffles closer on his knees, leans in to suck beseechingly at Theseus’ inner thigh.

Theseus makes an entirely unmasterly squawking noise and drags him away again by the hair. “ _Nghah--!_ D-did I command such a thing, fiend?”

“What?” says Zagreus, dazed. “I thought you wanted--don’t you want--”

He can tell he’s sorely testing Theseus’ self-control by the familiar, faint tremble of the hand fisted in his hair. “I-I shall tell you what it is that I want,” the king grits out, “just as soon as that insolent mouth is once again-- _silenced!_ As best befits one such as you!”

“That’s what I was _trying_ to--” Zagreus starts, and then finds himself muted for the second time in as many minutes as Theseus stuffs the slice of pomegranate into his mouth. His jaws squeeze shut instinctively, and feels some of the seeds break, juice bursting across his tongue.

“Hold this until I say otherwise. Do not let it fall!”

Zagreus moans impatiently through his nose, feels juice start to drip down his chin in two slow lines. A throaty exhale answers him from above, and a moment later Theseus settles down in front of him, their thighs interlocking. Theseus is pressed against his knee, his heat--or the ghostly memory of it--tangible even through Zagreus’ breeches.

“A wild beast must grow accustomed to its master’s touch,” he proclaims breathlessly, stroking Zagreus’ chest with something bordering on reverence. “I...have neglected that aspect of your discipline…”

He squeezes roughly, rolls a peaked nipple under one thumb, and Zagreus leans into his hand. Despite his best efforts, a fresh dribble of juice joins the others, inching down over his throat. Theseus’ cheekbone bumps against his; Zagreus can feel his lips moving, hot breath and fervent muttering washing over his skin.

“I know your heart, filth. You yearn to be my plaything…you worship at the altar of my magnificent body…you would have me ravish you until mine is the only name you can recall…”

He pinches both nipples, pulls and twists experimentally. It’s crude, artless, purely for his own enjoyment--and unfortunately all the better for it. The wandering hands slip down over Zagreus’ sides, grasping appraisingly at his waist, making him twist and shiver. Then, blessedly, one of them digs down the front of his trousers. _Yes, at last--_ Zagreus gasps, rocks his hips awkwardly, sweaty and desperate, but Theseus’ grasp never quite closes, never moves to help-- _bastard--_

“You’re quite the mess, aren’t you, daemon?” The king bends to the crook of his neck, sucking away one droplet of juice, then another. “ _Mmm…_ See what you’ve reduced me to...cleaning your tender, pallid flesh with my own mouth... I hope you are exceedingly grateful!”

Zagreus can’t focus, can’t seem to think about anything but the ravenous mouth on his throat, the hands claiming his body. The last time Theseus touched him like this, they both had the excuse of Lady Aphrodite’s assistance. Now here he is again, weak and wanton, and has nothing but his own terrible taste to blame.

“Ah, but you cannot speak to give thanks!” Theseus croons, disgustingly condescending. “Poor muzzled creature--whine, then, in thanks…"

\--

No response. Theseus closes his fingers under the daemon’s tunic and strokes, once. Furious moaning--the daemon leans against his chest, trembling. Gods, what a delightful game! He lifts the daemon's chin forcibly and sees again that look, that glare, now tinged with almost tearful desperation. Theseus does not love the daemon, but he loves that look. They hold eye contact for a long moment, and then his pet whines for him, slow and trembling, and Theseus practically bowls him over in his eagerness.

“There, _good_ ,” he pants, tearing the slice of fruit from the daemon’s wet, rosy mouth. “I have a better reward for you, one I think shall surpass your imagining-- _ah_ \--”

“Sir--” The fiend bucks beneath him, his mismatched eyes pleading. _“Sir.”_

Theseus jerks down his breeches, fumbling between their hips to clutch the two of them together--the shame of sharing pleasure with such a disgusting creature doesn’t even occur to him. He wants to hear those helpless sounds that haunt his dreams, wants to commit this moment eternally to memory--the daemon splayed beneath him, arching and begging, overcome with gratitude. So docile, so _obliging_ \--so wanting of approval...

“ _Nh_ \--good monster-- _ah--good pet--!_ ”

The daemon keens again like a wordless animal. It’s one thing to hear the sound from behind a gag, and entirely another to hear it full-throated and open-mouthed. And all for _his king_ , for _Theseus_ \--his thrusts pick up speed and both of them cry out from the new friction. The daemon’s jaw tips back, making a graceful bow of his red-stained throat, and his face is drawn with ecstatic anguish. Braced on one arm, Theseus bows down just to look more closely on that expression, committing every detail to memory. The daemon whines again, and he laughs, delighted.

“Haha--! If you are a god--wh-what-- _aah!--_ what domain is yours? Are you god of-- _hhhh_ \--martial cowardice?! Of kneeling, of begging for cock?! Ah-- _aahh_ \--yes, it comes clear--”

Theseus presses his lips to the daemon’s ear, breathing heavy against it. _“Zagreus--god of whores--”_

\--

It’s the words that makes him come, undeniably. The whisper hits him like a lightning bolt, and Zagreus’ feet actually lift from the ground in a helpless spasm of ecstasy. His mind goes searingly blank; he can hear himself saying _sir, sir, sir,_ and that pompous voice loudly whispering more shameless, filthy things in his ear, things _only_ this overbearing blowhard would think to say, and-- _damn it all_ \--

A moment later Theseus comes too, managing impressively to catch most of it in his own hand. That’s good...Zagreus would’ve hated to wash out his clothes in a sacred fountain of healing.

To his distant surprise, even though the game is over, Theseus mutters a cursory “ _Well done,”_ as he falls away. As they lie catching their breath, one of his arms comes to rest belligerently on top of Zagreus’, in what Zagreus suspects may be a squeamish, pale imitation of Asterius’ post-coital affection.

It’s unnecessary, but he lets it happen.

\--

Zagreus leaves first. It’s become something of a tradition, by now. He’s had a drink and, reluctantly, polished off the pomegranate. He’s feeling stronger, although perhaps not as strong as he might have felt if he weren’t leaving half the seeds strewn across the floor. Still, even the five-second rule has its limits.

He raises a hand to open the door to the next chamber, then suddenly remembers something and looks back, frowning. “Wait...you called me by my name. You _know_ my name?” _Granted, you followed it up with “god of whores”, but still._

Theseus flounders for a moment, then rallies. “Well--you served me with great enthusiasm! Through dutiful obedience, such concessions may be earned!”

“Good to know,” says Zagreus. “The next ‘concession’ I earn will be a complete victory and a bottle of ambrosia. I’ll meet you in the arena, king.”

“I look forward to seeing you on the other end of my spear, hellspawn!” calls Theseus, pleased and superior. Zagreus rolls his eyes and moves along, feeling the familiar rush of dislike--and unfortunate, undeniable excitement.

\--

 _“Him._ You must be joking, Zag.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“This is highly irregular. He’s tasked to stand guard against you...if your father finds out that measure is compromised--”

“It’s definitely not, I promise. There was a whole… We dealt with that.”

“Just so long as you _do_ fight from now on, rather than...fucking in a corner. And if you even _think_ about trying that with me...”

“You realize that by mentioning this to us, you’ve created a conflict of interests.”

“I understand. I’m sorry...I just wanted you to know. It seemed important.”

“ _Hmph_. Well?”

“...Well, what?”

“How is he?”

“Oh...haha, well-- _different_. Not nearly as careful as you two. Obnoxious. Selfish. Cocky. Condescending. Demeaning--”

“And you’ve...the two of you have...how many times?”

“Er...five.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because he likes it. Don’t you, Zag? The selfishness, the condescension...it’s all part and parcel, isn’t that so?”

“...Something like that. Only with him, though--please don’t think you have to...do _any_ of that.”

“Hah. No need to worry...I know very well what you like best from me.”

“Well, I can’t say I understand, but--as long as you’re...enjoying yourself. Just...if he crosses a _single_ line, you let me know.”

“And me. There’s not a shade in this realm that doesn’t fear the wrath of a Fury. Even in Elysium, however much they like to pretend.”

“Thank you, and...I promise I will. I love you, you know. Both of you.”

“I...you...as well.”

“ _Tsch._ Zag...”

**Author's Note:**

> -I know I said "Meg teaches Theseus how to spank" was a joke and I would never write it, but I realized the other day it could actually be extremely hot if it's a practical demonstration on Zag, so more fool me I guess.  
> -You can and should assume that Theseus has been waiting in various fountain chambers for several days now, posing dramatically while he waits  
> -I feel like I crammed...too much Theseus dirty talk into this one, but the good news is, not shutting up is entirely in character for him and there's no such thing as too much  
> -Zag meanwhile keeps getting gagged, RIP Gag Zag. Let him speak. Where's the banter.  
> -The phrase "waiting for the other sandal to drop" is probably objectively too silly while also not being funny enough to make a reader laugh, but it tickles me so it stays in.  
> -Should this series end with Zagreus earning 15 diamonds...?  
> (me: this is a porno  
> also me: GILLIGAN CUT)


End file.
